


Shredded Legs

by DarrowWyrlde



Series: 30min Fics [9]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Mentions of drugs, possible possession?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 20:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16249136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarrowWyrlde/pseuds/DarrowWyrlde
Summary: Stan isn't sure which reason behind Dipper's odd behavior is worse.





	Shredded Legs

Stan sighed heavily as the last of the tourists exited the shop. Every second of the tour he had been aching to run downstairs and check on the machine’s progress.

He was  _ so _ close and felt as though he was waiting time every minute he was away. But there wasn’t much to be done about it. He couldn’t let the kids start getting suspicious. Then there were those pesky agents that were following him about town.

Despite every inch of him screaming to run to the portal, he had to keep his cool. He had waited this long, he could go awhile longer.

...It might help to move about though.

He got up from behind the register and made his way to the “EMPLOYEES ONLY” door. Pushing it open and reaching for the stash of PittCola he kept just inside, a bizzare sight met his eyes.

“Uh...Dipper?”

The boy looked up from the floor sharply, almost disturbingly so. If that wasn’t odd enough, the clothing shreds around him certainly were.  


“HEY OLD MAN!” the voice and address were wrong. So wrong. 

Concern bubbled up in Stan’s chest. He cleared his throat in an attempt to disguise the worry in his voice, “What are you doing kid?”

“OH, JUST CUTTING OFF THE LEGS OF ALL YOUR PANTS.”

“...why?!”

“NO REASON! NOT AT ALL BECAUSE I CAN’T CHOP OFF YOUR ACTUAL LEGS YET!”

That...was very wrong. Stan hoped to all the powers that be that his nephew hadn’t gotten mixed up in something really bad. The cause for this obvious change in the boy could any number of things, if the supernatural was involved. Some plant or spell messing with his brain...possession? 

No, Stan was going to hope for a more human reason.

“When was the last you slept Dipper?”

“NOT LONG ENOUGH AGO!!!”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” He stepped forward and picked the squirming kid up by the back of his vest. 

“HEY! PUT ME DOWN! I COULD DESTROY YOU IN 7000 WAYS!!!!”

Stan froze.  
“Dammit!” he muttered.

“WHAT WAS THAT?”

Stan plopped supposedly Dipper down into his armchair, keeping a hand on the kid while he reached into his pocket for a penlight. 

To his frustration and growing worry, the light on Dipper’s eyes proved them to be tinged yellow.

“HEY! CUT THAT OUT!” 

...and the pupils were off.  
To Stan’s knowledge, this meant that this kid he cared for was either possessed by a somethingorwhatzit or on drugs.

“I don’t know which is worse.”

“HEH, WHAT’S WORSE?” The boy continued to squirm, but Stan’s grip was firm. 

“Either you or...an old friend of mine. They never used to sleep either!” Stan scooped Dipper up in his arms, despite the protest he received. “I had noticed you seemed to be obsessed with something. And those bags under your eyes can be seen from space!” He started to walk through the house.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?!!!!”  
“Shesh kid, stop yelling. I’m gonna throw you on your bed, tuck you in, and make sure you stay there. I’ll sit on you if need be if it’ll get you to sleep.” 

“I DON’T NEED SLEEP! I AM A BEING OF-”

Stan didn’t know which to hope for, possession or drugs. Hopefully whatever it was 

would wear off soon. 

“Sweat and noodly arms.” 

Dipper started to tug on his arms. “I’LL BITE YOU!”   
He started up the stairs, more distressed than ever though he wouldn’t let it show. “You

think I haven’t been bitten before kid?”

“I KNOW YOU HAVE!”  
“...then you know how I’d respond?”  
“PROBABLY NOT WITH THIS BOD-I MEAN WITH ME!”   
Stan kicked open the kid’s door, not too surprised to see the floor strewn with sock puppets. As promised, he tossed the boy onto his bed. He grabbed the nearby mess of blankets and began to cocoon the kid before he could escape.   
“Sleep! Or I’ll _make_ you take some medicine!”   
“...ALRIGHT DEAREST UNCLE!”

Stan fled, his mind warring over which was the best of two hells. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was not at all born out of how I was cutting up a bunch of pants and went "Hey, this is something Bipper would do! ...I wonder how many pairs of pants Stan has?"


End file.
